


A.R.T.E.M.I.S.

by the_maraudersmap_of_fandoms



Series: Runaways [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Avengers (2012), Romance, SHIELD Husbands, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_maraudersmap_of_fandoms/pseuds/the_maraudersmap_of_fandoms
Summary: Prior being one of the best SHIELD agent, an internationally recognized marksman and an avenger, Clint Barton had been Hawkeye, the nightmare of the SHIELD, a target to shoot down for all the agents he had shot, all the operations he had got in the way of.April 1996, Phil Coulson was ordered to be in charge of a manhunt, his mission is to shoot down the mercenary and sniper Hawkeye. First thing first, he had to find said mercenary and sniper.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: Runaways [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715338
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Restricted operation

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of how Clint was recruit by the SHIELD and his time working for them until he became an avenger. Some characters from the Marvel comics will appeared but they aren't added in the characters sections because I will treat them differently, not being very aware of their treatment in the comics (Kate Bishop, etc.), so they'll be close to OC.  
> This story will also be the opportunity to look into Phil Coulson.

**April 27th 1996, 04:30 – SHIELD Headquarters (New-York)**

  
"Got get some sleep, Davis ! We’ll debrief tomorrow and I want your report on my desk before the end of the day."

  
Agent Davis nodded shortly, throwing his bag on his uninjured shoulders – there wasn’t much that could be done, it was only a strained muscle, but it’d be lying to say it didn’t hurt at all – before hurrying out of the building, already thinking of the ( _very_ ) few hours he would afford in his _very own_ bed. It had been weeks since he was able to stay in his own flat. Only once the man was of sight, Phil let out a sight; the mission was supposed to be an easy one, they’d be in and out in a matter of minutes, the target’s building was merely secured had shown the information given by an agent who had made some back and forth inside, but what the agent has omitted to say was that under the building was something close to a military base. The mission went FUBAR and two very good field agents had a close call, they were currently in the infirmary. Coulson thought about stopping by, asking the doctors how they were, but then decided against it, it was way too soon to have any steady report, which explains why by 05:00 the man was already in his office, working on the mission rapport and writing down on some post-it what absolutely needed to be express during the following day’s debriefing. That’s how Fury found the man leaning over his desk, the only source of light was a small desk lamp which light was partly obstruct by the man’s head. Surprised by the increase of luminosity in the room, Phil abandoned the paper, his head rising to look at who was at his door. 

  
"Damnit! Must have been hell of a mission if I surprised you, agent."  
"You have no idea, sir."He rubbed his eyes as if it would get him rid of the tiredness "Do you need something? If it’s the report, it’ll be on your desk tomorrow."  
"I already know that, Coulson! Beside I wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night to get a rapport, I allow myself to little time of rest to do that. Don’t be daft! "

Fury had made his way inside the room to sit on the chair he seemed to had claim as his, an awful chair no one else dare to sit on, too afraid of getting stiff and that’s exactly why Phil had demand on having that particular brand of chair, not wanting people to disturb his work more than necessary. It has never seemed to bother Fury, but then again, very little seemed to bother Fury when he had his mind set on something, and more often than not, Phil had no idea what this something was even thought it has to do with himself more often than he’d liked. Conscious that he wouldn’t have any work done anytime soon, the agent dropped his pen off, stretched out, before reaching for two glasses and a bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk and purring the drink into both glasses. He bottomed up his and purred another one before Fury touched his own glass.

He didn’t often let himself have a drink at work and absolutely never with a rapport to be done in front of him, but the few priors days had been nuts and it felt like all his last missions had finished badly, not that anyone had complained until now. Phil wondered for a second if that’s why Fury came, but the thought was quick to leave his mind, the other man would already have slapped Coulson’s wrist. As if sensing the uneased currently in the agent’s mind, Fury looked at him dead in the eyes, not dropping the contact as he placed his glass back on the desk. 

  
"I asked Agent Hill to gather all information that SHIELD has on Hawkeye." He paused, always one to make a simple discussion become a dramatic play. "There has been a few situations which have all been put down to a lack of information regarding the target."

  
Phil wasn’t surprised by what Fury was telling him, he made a point to be up to date with every major case of SHIELD, knowing that at any given moment his superiors could assigned them to him or one of his assets, and the truth was that Hawkeye was one big case Shield was facing at the moment, if not one of their biggest. The man had come to Fury’s attention a year and an half earlier, sliding in during one of their Op, killing their target in front of Agent Mitchel with an arrow that passed right beside the agent’s left ear, touching the target right in between their eyes. It could have been funny if it hadn’t chocked Mitchel so much and if they could have extract the information needed. Fury had been furious, screaming at the team responsible of the op that they should have made sure nobody suspicious could get into the perimeter since the target was big fish who was known to receive a lot of dead threat. Security footage and witnesses gave them nothing to identify the archer. 

  
They set up a team whose only job was to find who the killer was, for who their worked and where to find them. Three months later, one of the team got in contact with a FBI agent who was working onto Hawkeye and his partner, they had made themselves a name for robbery and being part of a criminal organisation, needless to say the information took the SHIELD quite by surprise and they never succeeded to make sense of that and the ruined operation. On the other hand, other agents if the team had gone through police register, making up a list of murder by arrows. The list was worth the glance: long enough that there was no way none of these murders were linked, and the names on it had the team think that they could establish a profile. None of the victims were the guy next door, but they weren’t all in the public eyes, they were mostly men and women playing with fire and too voracious, making enemies that apparently could afford hiring a contract killer. It was around the same time that some undercover agents all around the world had started to hear about a mercenary answering to the name of Hawkeye, a guy who would do any job as long as the money was good and justified by his standard. That’s how they learned that although the man love using a bow, that’s not the only weapon he used, which meant that SHIELD had no way of really knowing his killing list and if was truly or not a menace. As often in that case, there was no room for hesitation, so the goal of any op involving Hawkeye was to kill him. 

  
"That makes sense, sir. We don’t know a lot about him."  
"I call bullshit! The last Op went FUBAR because they threw some smoke bomb in the ballroom he was supposed to meet his set-up target. I remember you telling me Hawkeye never meet any target in a closed public space, which is exactly what a ballroom is. This motherfucker knew from the start it was a set-up!"  
"I remember writing it down on my rapport." He filled up the glasses once more. At this rhythm, they’d be drunk soon enough.  
"That’s what I’m talking about! We have that information, but there are so many files and rapports that the agents don’t know where to look anymore. That’s why agent Hill is currently gathering everything in a single file."  
"Sir, why are you telling me this?" Phil had meant to ask the question since Fury started talking, not understanding what it has to do with him, knowing that the Director hadn’t come here only to get it off his chest, there had to be something else.  
"Well, I know that you were in charge of a few Op, if not half of them. The first was Garrett, then you, you, Hill, you, you, you, Sitwell, May, you and now Barnaby. And you are the one that has come the closest to catch him."

  
That was true, well, Phil didn’t know that no one had been as close to catch Hawkeye as he had, but he knew for sure that he had handled most of the operations regarding the archer, which, and he would reluctantly admit so, made him the one who knew the best the case, what were exactly the don’ts, where there was no point in trying to look for the man and when to know that the Op was a failure. The thought that this made him the Hawkeye expert left a bitter taste in his mouth, in all honesty that was knowing close to nothing about the man. Right at the moment, Phil was fearing what was coming out of Fury’s mouth next, he dreaded it because he could make sense of the decision that the man had make. 

  
"This is why I’ve assigned you to the case until the man is out. Understood?"  
"Understood, sir. May I ask what’s Barnaby’s assessment? "  
"Let’s just say that Barnaby’s office, on the third floor, is looking for a new occupant." After a few minutes, he offered some details. "Shot in the head while Barnaby and his team were getting in the helicopter to come back. One of the agent was shot in the middle of the back, dead, and another won’t be able to shoot anymore."

  
Phil kept his face a blank canvas, but it took him some effort not to wince in sympathy and worry, it looked like Hawkeye was getting annoyed by the interest deployed by the SHIELD and even if the agent could understand, it meant that the more they kept running after the mercenary, the more agents they put in danger and the more agents would be killed. Phil wasn’t stupid, he knew all agents knew what they signed for, but that didn’t mean they had to consciously push their assets toward a certain death. Once again, Fury seemed to read his agent’s mind, he offered a smack on the shoulder.

  
" I’m sure it’s only a matter of weeks before you managed to close this case. "

  
  
**April 27th 1996, sometimes during the afternoon – SHIELD headquarters (New York)**

  
Phil was reading the rapport that agent Davis had dropped off in the early afternoon, making sure that there was enough details without making the paper unreadable, which was never really the case with Davis, the agent was always been thoughtful and direct, never telling too little or too much, a feature to put down on the man’s military career without a doubt. It was something Phil appreciated and maybe one of the reason he kept the man as his asset even though Davis was good enough of an agent to be allowed to work without always having a handler with him. He was reaching the end of the rapport when the phone on his desk started to ring, he let it go to the answering machine and after five minutes, the ringing started once again, which made Phil answered with a frown on his face.

  
"Agent Coulson? "  
" Phil?" He recognized the woman voice. "Care to explain why I had the visit of one of your superior officer while I was at work to tell me that we wouldn’t be in touch for a while? And why is that by the way?" He could feel a headache coming, right behind his eyes.  
"Argh… Listen Helen, there is a bit of a situation at work at the moment."  
"There always is a situation at work, Phillip! Now be honest, is there even a slight chance that Kate will be able to wish you a happy birthday this year? She hadn’t able to last year and you know that this is something important at that age… " His silence was enough of an answer and he heard her huff "How bad can it really be? I mean, the world won’t end because you take a day-off."  
"Helen… It’s not for the world that I’m worried. The guy we’re after is good at his job and we know little about him except for that and the fact he has a way of finding the information he wants." Silence "Information like where to find the last agents who were working on his case…"  
" Philli…"  
" Last time I was on it, I almost caught the guy, Helen. The boss doesn’t want anyone else on the case anymore. I promise that once this is over, I’ll take a week-off and spend it with Katherine. I promise. "

  
The line went off, sign that Helen was pissed off, but Phil knew that she would come around eventually, she was clever and even if she had an hard time dealing with Phil ‘s dangerous life, the woman wouldn’t hold a grudge against him if his silence meant the security of their daughter. He sighted and finished reading Davis’ rapport before applying his signature at the end of the paper, marking it as good to be added to SHIELD archives. A look at the clock on the wall behind him told Coulson that the afternoon was nearing its end, not that it came as a surprise to the man, he had felt his shoulder getting heavier little by little reminding him that he had been awake for a bit over 48 hour, which was not the longer he had been without sleep, but way too much for how tired he had been even before the Op. He needed to sleep if he didn’t want to end doing a burnout. That would create a good gossip to busy the administration staff of the headquarters, he thought. 

  
Phil took the pile of papers on his desk, on top of which was his rapport and Davis’s one, then left his office, not bothering to lock the door (nobody was fool enough to enter without his consent), to bring the pile to the archives desk, all but his rapport which was going to end in Fury’s office. He made small talk with the archive head, agreeing with her when she expressed how awful the 3 new deaths had been and how it became urgent to put a stop to the Hawkeye, the woman didn’t seem to know that the job was now his concern. He was almost glad. Then, on his way to Fury’s office, Phil made a halt by the _cafeteria_ to purr himself a cup of coffee, not knowing how long would be his meeting with the Director, the man in question was currently on the phone, waving at his agent to come in and take a sit. The room was big, twice Phil’s, with a desk on the far end, surrounded by shelves, and in the middle of the room was a meeting table which was used by Maria Hill, the woman currently busy with a dozen of open files, taking papers out of one to put it back into another one, sometime stopping to write down something on another paper. She barely glance at him, but cleared a side of the table, thus allowing him to drop off his coffee and rapport. Fury ended up his phone call, purred himself and Hill a coffee (because being the director had its perk such as having a coffee machine within reach) before joining them at the table, only granted a brief glance at the report Phil had brought with him. 

  
"Already? I didn’t expect that this soon, Coulson. "  
" With respect, sir, you’re full of shit. I told you it’d be on your desk today." The minute of silence was enough to worried Hill, she knew Coulson could allow himself almost everything with Fury, but was it one of those instance?  
" I’m not gonna die if your report is not on my desk the day after an Op is over, Coulson. This…" Fury put a hand on a file that Hill had closed only a minute before. "… is what I told you about, agent Hill has almost finish it. From now on, everything in link to Hawkeye will be reported to this file and refer as the operation A.R.T.E.M.I.S., it’s between you, Hill and me, no one else. Is that clear? "   
" Yes, all clear, sir." Hill was the first to recover, but the odd that she had already debriefed was high.  
" Sir… How am I supposed to set up the operation with the team if those information are only between the three of us?" Phil had a good idea, but the thought frightened him. Hawkeye wasn’t to be taken lightly, the op needed preparation… a lot.  
" Minimal human resources, Coulson. This need discretion, he knows when one of our team is after him, and I’m afraid that if I allow more agents on the case, their rancor will make them do mortal mistake and elongate the manhunt."

  
Phil hated to admit it, but Fury was right, the things were becoming too personal with the mercenary to make other agents step in, things would get ugly very fast and this manhunt had already cost them too many lives, but that didn’t mean that Phil had to appreciate being the one in charge of it with only Hill and Fury in backup, not when May, Garrett and Sitwell also had knowledges on the case now renames **A.R.T.E.M.I.S.** Conscious that no complained would change anything (and absolutely not ready to lower himself to that level of pettiness), he sat down with Hill and started help her gathering the information, most of which he already know, having wrote those himself. It was close to 06:00 PM when the closed the last files, gathered them in a pile to put away in one of Fury’s drawer, then Hill closed the new file and wrote in bold capitals “ **A.R.T.E.M.I.S** ”, seeing the new name made Phil asked himself the meaning behind it, since the Director hadn’t take the time to tell them. 

  
" What does it stand for? "  
 ** _" A-level Revoked Target on the Explanation of being a Mercenary and Illicit Sniper_**. "  
" Do we often give an acronym to revoked recruitment?" Phil knew he was being a smartass, but he was still bitter with the bomb Fury had dropped and with the phone call from that afternoon.  
" Only those that leave us with a bitter taste in the mouth. Just like this motherfucker! "

  
Phil had to bite his tong not to voice that since Fury seemed awfully eager to call the man “ ** _Motherfucker_** ”, they could plainly call that operation the same way… **A.R.T.E.M.I.S** … Some people really had to much time on their hand to come up with name like that.


	2. The "James Collins Versus United States" case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Hawkeye brought Phil Coulson to Oregon where he identified a potential target in the Deputy James Collins who is making the headlines for a big scandal.

**May 1st 1996, 01:00 PM – Oregon**

  
The first thing in Phil’s mind when he finally made his way out of the airport was that he was starving, he barely had the time to have a coffee prior getting on board of the plane that morning, which meant that he hadn’t had a meal for at least 24 hours. The next thought was that he might have pissed off someone up above, there was no other explanation to why Phil was on the other side of the country, looking for a ghost mercenary, three days before his birthday, not that the event was meaningful for the man, but the approaching date kept reminding him the phone call with Helen and the true fact that his daughter hadn’t been able to wish him a happy birthday two years in a row. Erasing the thought, Coulson bought a hot-dog at the corner of the street, ate it in two mouthful, then hailed for a taxi, one more railing against the discreet nature of the operation meaning that he had a limited access to SHIELD resource: no car, no safe house to use as his headquarter and no one on his six. Perfect! The booked hotel wasn’t far, half an hour from the airport, but definitely shabby, and currently the only thing Phil couldn’t afford since he had no idea of how long the hotel room would be is new domicile. The man didn’t waste time and started emptying his luggage into the miserable closet, closed the curtains, purred himself a drink from the whiskey bottle he had bought prior checking in into the hotel, then took a sit on the bed to review the reasons he was in Oregon.

  
Lately, James Collins, deputy of Oregon, had made the headline for some drug and prostitution scandals, he had been photographed in a strip-club underground, surrounded by girls that seemed to be barely legal if not underage, and the table in front of him was covered with bottles and lines of white powder. The strip-club was owned by Daniel Lewis-Dann, a man suspected to be part of the mob, and the FBI had jump on the scandal to make a deal: Collins would give information on the owner’s business and the FBI would let him go; that was a deal interesting enough to scare Lewis-Dann and his associates if the contract on Collins was enough of a confession. This situation seemed to be the kind to attract Hawkeye, which had lead Phil to inform Hill and Fury of his need of some times-off in Oregon, and here he was. The target was on house arrest, monitored by a rolling team with always between eight and eleven guards, but the FBI was moving him to the Plaza Hotel on Sunday afternoon for a meeting with the DA. Phil had already planned his Sunday, and even if he was not proud of it, the plan didn’t consist of saving Collins’ life, the SHIELD agent was in Oregon to gather information on the Hawkeye, nothing less, and setting his sight on saving the man’s life would keep him too busy to pay attention to the mercenary’s deeds. Around 04:00, Phil left the hotel to situate himself in a café, asking the bartender to use the phone.

  
" Hallo, Marcus? I landed earlier in the afternoon, but you know those meeting, they don’t even let you the time to get installed in your room. Anyway! It’s just to tell you that I’ll look for your thing tomorrow, I have the day off. "

  
Fury and Coulson had agreed on this phone call so the agent would be able to confirm his position and now that it was done, the man commanded a coffee before heading to the terrace occupied by a few people. He had decided on this café because the situation was perfect, close to the Plaza, but far away so the perimeter was perceptible. But the first step of the op was to become a regular patron of the café, so his presence here on Sunday wouldn’t look too much suspicious. Thus for the next few days, Phil had observed the back and forth of people, noting those who seemed to manifest a pattern within which was identifiable a military background, or those with a lean musculature; it was a weak way of drawing a profile, but the SHIELD agent had nothing solid enough to base a profile on. For the moment, five people had made their way into the list, one woman and four men. Phil saw the woman for the first time the day after his own arrival, she had claim a spot on the terrace, looking every now and then toward the hotel, and her lean figure had seems on a constant alert state. The four men never put a foot inside the café, and only two were seriously considered to be Hawkeye by Phil, the other two walking around with guns in their jackets and not bothering to be discreet; they were some wannabe vigilant lurking for an occasion to look heroic and what best that killing a paedophile who would most certainly walk free from Sunday’s meeting. The third man walked like an ex-soldier and an angry face on at all time, while the last man was small, but quick on his feet as Phil had observed once, a glass had be knock off the table and the man had been on his feet in a matter of second, catching the glass before it reached the ground. 

  
**May 3rd, 07:20 – Helen Bishop house (New-York)**

  
The house standing in front of Fury was as ugly as always, small and grim, the kind of house that were deemed haunted by kids and in which they ventured around Halloween to look brave, even if no one would like them more or less according to how long they had stayed inside said haunted house. It was early, way too early for a visit to someone with whom he had no connection other than knowing and being the superior officer of an ex-boyfriend and father of their child, but it wasn’t so often that Nick wanted to do something good for Phil (there friendship didn’t really work that way), so he didn’t let some bedsides manners stop him. Helen was half way through dressing up when she opened the door, yelling over her shoulder at her daughter to eat her breakfast, she stopped mid-sentence when her eyes locked on the man waiting on the porch. 

  
" Humm… Nick, is that right?" She didn’t know what to say, wanting to know what the man was doing on her porch at such an early hour, but not wanting to sound rude by asking. 'Is there something I can do for you? I’m sorry but… We are in a rush. School day!" She added as though the man didn’t know the current day and that kids went to school.  
" I know it’s early, ma’am. Coming here was a spur of the moment, but I’m afraid coming later wouldn’t make any sense. You see, I’m Phil’s superior, but also his friend, and it came to my attention that he had been quite disappointed to spend his birthday away from his daughter. "  
" Yes, we talked about it on our last phone call. Kate had a hard time understanding that parents’ birthdays aren’t as big of a matter as it is for the kids. But, I don’t really get how this explain your presence here… I supposed you’re not going to tell me that the radio silence had been revoked, are you? "  
" Indeed, that’s not why I’m here, ma’am, but to offer Kate the opportunity to give me a message to pass on to her father. "  
" Come on in, then. "

  
**May 5th, 12:46 – terrace in front of the Plaza Hotel (Oregon)**

  
The day had come, from his usual chair on the left side f-of the terrace, Phil had observed two black ranch rovers stopped to drop off Collins and the FBI agents, all hurrying inside the hotel to avoid to many photographs and to limit the deputy’s time in full sight. It was a surprise that nothing happen to the target before he disappeared inside the hotel building, any other mercenary would have perform the execution at that moment, since everything said by Collins during this meeting would be enough to help the FBI tracking down Daniel Lewis-Dann, which mean that executing Collins after the meeting was way too late. It could only mean one thing and that thing was that Hawkeye was planning the execution during the meeting, which lead to the question “how”, the meeting room had no window and it was hard to imagine a guard being the mercenary that Phil was looking for. For a minute, Coulson imagined that maybe the man had given the job up, but that seemed highly improbable as this kind of achievement would be a boost for the mercenary career. 

  
" Your coffee, sir. Would you like anything else? "  
" No, thank you. "

  
The waiter left as quick as he had come, and Phil took a sip before pretending to read the newspaper, knowing that there will be a rush in a matter of minutes and he was right, not even fifteen minutes later (enough time for everyone to settle down), he saw guards walking out and taking strategic position. The agitation increased quickly and soon, bystanders started to gather around the hotel, obstructed by yellow banners, watching medicals hurrying inside then leaving with a body bag, Phil could hear dramatic gasps and rumour of concern and jubilation. He finished his cup of coffee, paid for it, then leave, heading toward the hotel and through the crowd, pulling of fake CIA badge out of the intern breast pocket of his jacket, introducing himself as Agent Paul Thomas. 

  
The meeting room was clean except for the blood splatters that started off the chair on which Collins had been sat and finished against a wall in which had been sunk an arrow. Phil made a move to touch the shaft, but finally decided against it, turning around to give his full attention to the FBI agent currently briefing him. The man was in a middle of a rant on the impossibility of an arrow going all the way through Collins’ skull, which was fair, the shot was pretty impressive. 

  
" Has anyone see where the shot came from? "  
" Not really, just that the shooter must have been right in front of him since the arrow get between agent Smith and agent Gerard before touching the victim. But we don’t really need evidence to the origin… I mean, the door is right there and wasn’t as well closed as it should have. Anyway, doesn’t really matter, the only one who saw that thing coming is dead now, so… And I doubt we found something useful with an arrow. "  
" On that subject, I will need to take the arrow as evidence. "

  
The man didn’t even try to argue, he had mean it when he said that the arrow would be of no use to them, but Phil could most certainly find a use to it, he didn’t know what yet, but that’d come later. Asking a paper sheet to the man, Coulson wrote down the situation: date, hour of the death, names of all participants of the meeting, those weren’t information useful for the agent, but it was mostly to keep the pretence, but it was also the occasion to have a pointed look around the room, watching for what the FBI had skimmed through. As the other man had told him, the door was right in front of where Collins had sat, but a glance from the door to the arrow on the wall was enough to deny the theory, the starting point of the trajectory was higher than the door. Phil looked up and had to take a moment to pull himself together. 

  
" Agent Thomas? " The man came back to Phil, not even looking at him, too busy reading the notes written by his team. "Do you think that you’ll be here for longer? I can tell the guard outside that you’re here, but we really need to debrief with our boss. Should we introduce you? "  
" Yes, I still have a few things to look at, and no, that won’t be necessary… We’re less interested in the murder than in an organisation that is making a name for getting in contact potential clients and hitmen."

  
The man nodded, bided him farewell, before leaving with most of his crew, only a few of them staying behind to wrap evidences, top secrets files used during the meeting, only leaving behind the arrow and Phil took a moment to ask a bag to pack the arrow that he “needed to bring back to his employer”. Once he was alone, Coulson took of his jacket, rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbow, closed the door, put a chair against it and climb up, he wasn’t exactly to height with the air vent, but it would have to do. Then, not waiting anymore, he removed the gate, disclosing an empty vent, but most importantly, a vent which was large enough for a man to comfortably lay down and move around. Phil lifted himself up to the vent, looked one side then the other, it wasn’t as empty as he thought, on the bottom laid another arrow. Following the air vent would led him to the entry and exit of the Hawkeye, but he doubted that the guard wouldn’t be alert if Phil didn’t pass in front of him, thus Coulson left the hotel, heading toward the one he was staying at. The receptionist waved absently, busy welcoming an elderly couple, and Phil barely answered, hurrying upstairs to call Fury, but not before having added the new information to the file he had brought with him in Oregon. 

  
" You better call me for something important, agent." And who didn’t like being greeted that way, really?  
" The vent…Hawkeye shot James Collins from the vent!"

Silence

" The bloody vent? Are you kidding me, Coulson? This shit is not funny!"  
" No, sir. There was an arrow into the wall, it went all the way through the skull, and one inside the air vent, simply lying there. It’s like the arrow had been put there on purpose. "  
" You think this motherfucker knows you’re on him? "  
" No, I don’t think so. I know he does. " He heard a sight, it wasn’t good sign since every other agents to have catch Hawkeye’s attention had died from the man’s hands.  
" I guess I’ll have to wait to give you your birthday message, then… Take the first plane you can get to come back to New-York. "  
" Yes, sir. "

  
Phil hung up the phone, glance around the room, took his suitcase from under the table and put it on the bed, open, before starting to filled it with the clothes previously placed into the closet, it didn’t took him long. Last thing to be put inside the suitcase was the file, but not before rereading one last time, then he put his gun and his fake CIA badge in the pocket of his jacket, took his suitcase and left the room. Unknown to Phil, at the end of the very same floor there was a room currently rented by non-other than Clint Barton, who was also leaving the hotel, making the two men run into each other. They acknowledged each other with a nod while entering and exiting the elevator. Hawkeye walked one step behind, watching carefully the SHIELD agent, assessing if the man had already seen past his “cover”, but part of him wanted this to happen, just for the fun, and the other dreaded it, as he had no idea how would end the encounter. Clint was kind of surprised that the man was alone to search for the archer, he had after all cost the agency a lot of agents, he was dangerous, and thus it didn’t make any sense to only send a single man after him. Was this harsh looking guy such a threat? 

  
**May 6th, 09:00 – SHIELD headquarters (New-York)**

  
After a good night of sleep, the first thing that Phil did was coming to the headquarters and heading to Fury’s office where he knew the director and agent Hill would be, he only made a stop to greet Sitwell, the man wondering where is co-worker and friend had been for the last week to which Coulson pretended that his mother had been immobilized for a few days because of a fall in the stairs. The man made a sorry face and let him go to his meeting. As per his prognostic, Fury and Hill were both in the office, sat at the meeting table, with each a cup of coffee in front of them. There was a tense atmosphere in the room, most likely linked to the discovery that Hawkeye knew Phil was after him. 

  
" I mean, he obviously already knew SHIELD was on him. There were enough op to make him become aware."  
" Yes, of course, Hill. But there is 'looking over your shoulder' and “leaving trace to taunt” awareness. I knew that motherfucker would be hard to get, but not that he would play cat and mouse. "  
" What I’d like to know is his formation? How did he succeed to shot an actual arrow with an actual bow while being in an air vent? "  
" We don’t need to know that! Just to stop him. Coulson, I dropped of something on your desk, you shouldn’t waste to much time before having a look at it. "

  
With those words, Phil was send back to his own office where, as Fury told him, sheets were waiting on his desk, but not from a SHIELD file or anything of that kind, these sheets were drawing and childish writing, all made by his own daughter with whom he shouldn’t be in contact for as long as the Hawkeye manhunt would last. Phil felt himself become emotional, watched each of the sheet with extreme attention, and then put them in a box that he kept at the bottom of his shelf and which was reserved for his daughter’s pieces of work. Afterward, he went to his desk, open the bag he had brought with him that day and extracted the two arrows, looking at them for a while: it was quite long, very sharp, and, surprisingly, the colour of the shaft wasn’t dark or any kind of dark grey, but a deep purple. That information made Coulson wondered if a lot of shops made that kind of arrows, he had never heard of tinted arrow, lethal weapons tented to stay aesthetically mundane for there was no reason to make them appealing. 


	3. Target's name: DAVIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second semester has started, so I'm not as often on internet for other things than reading article and finding material for my works. I'll still try to update once a week, sometime twice if the week is light.

**August 24th, 09:58 PM – Detroit (Michigan)**

  
Sat at the bar, Clint was pretending to pay attention to the football game playing on the tv screen, he had been nursing the same beer for the last half hour, lost in his thought, which very rarely occurred to the archer and doing so in a crowded bar maybe wasn’t his brightest idea. A powerful shout celebrated a touch-down, some excited dude knocking off their beer all over the bar at the same moment, Clint had barely managed to step backward to avoid the stream of beer, more on account of his reflexes than on being aware of his surroundings. The other man is way too drunk to apologize, and even more, he looked like he was about to throw a fit, only calming down when a waitress brought him another beer, it also helped that the woman was a real cutie. She is young, around 21 thought Clint, because the bar is pretty close to the university and this often meant that the owner hire students to help on the week-end and big occasion (such as a football game), but she didn’t look that immature, wearing pant suit with simple white shirt and her hair high in a ponytail. He waited until she was available to order a second beer.

  
– Not a fan of the team? (Her accent stood out from the rest of the room, the archer was almost sure he could detect something from out of the US)  
– Not a fan of the game.   
– Maybe not the best night to come, then. Unless you’re trying to blend in. (She teased, that meant there was a possibility for Clint to end the night with her. Was it a smart move?)  
– Well, I don’t know. Did I succeed in blending in?   
– Keyword is “trying”… But I mean, I work here and it’s the first time I see you, maybe I’m biased.   
– Maybe you are. Do you have any other biased opinion on me? (There was a glint in her eyes, one that said she could give as much as she could get)

  
Clint did end taking her to his hotel room, learning on the way that she was called Sophia, was British and had moved in the US to get closer to her father, but she still lived on the campus, sharing a room with another student. He told her his name was William, but saw in her eyes that she didn’t buy the lie. Afterward, they laid down, catching their breath when she fell asleep and Clint had in mind to kick her out of his room, knowing he wouldn’t catch any sleep otherwise and he had a big job the next evening, but he couldn’t resolve to do it? The archer stood up, took a quick shower to get rid of the post-sex sweat, and then turn the tv on, an episode of friends was airing, but the show did nothing to keep him out of his mind. He thought about the job of the day after, not rethinking of his plan, but if some SHIELD agent would be around and if said man would try to stop him as he had for the last three months, unsuccessfully, but the man had some determination, it had to be admitted. After an hour or so, Clint stopped trying to fight his wandering thoughts, he wondered for a while why SHIELD was so set on stopping him, after all, the man had only accepted targets within his moral, which meant no kids and no truly innocent people, pregnant women were off the table too (only if the job could be done after the childbirth). He knew they didn’t want to count him as one of theirs, gun shots in his direction had made it clear. 

Around 7 in the morning, Sophia woke up, saw him sat in front of the TV, and, bless her, haven’t made a move to come curl around him, something Clint hated from the bottom of his heart, but went to the little bathroom to then leave with only an invitation to contact her the next time the man was in town. The rest of the day went by quickly, which was fine for the archer, he wasn’t particularly fond of the town, and the quicker the job was done, the quicker he’d get back to New-York.   
Not long before 08:00 PM, Clint left his room, letting the staff know that he was leaving for good, then took the metro to downtown where was located a very popular nightclub which was often frequented by Marshal Davis, a magnate of drug dealing. The job was going to be a fast one, Clint only had to get close to the man, easy since he corresponded perfectly to the man’s type, put some poison in his drink which he would do just after taking a sip, pretending to taste it before ordering, the perfect move to look like a twink looking for a sugar daddy. As Clint had imagine, the job was quick and by 11:30 PM, he was waiting for a plane, already thinking of his bed back in his New-York flat, and how restful were going to be, he had no job on the horizon.

  
**August 31st, 12:00 AM – SHIELD Headquarter (New-York)**

  
The headquarter was quiet, there was no big emergency going on, no passive-aggressive barb exchanged between agents in the middle of the hall, dining hall or hallway, it was so calm that Phil had been able to finished all his rapports and those of his agents way faster than usually, which was already a record on its own. For the moment, Coulson was currently going downstairs to the dining all, he saw Sitwell sat along with Garrett and decided to join the two men, and soon, the three of them were inviting Davis to the table. 

  
– Sir, it’s been a while since we’ve been on a job together, right?   
– It has. The director has been keeping me busy with administrative works.   
– What kind of administrative work keeps you out of your office, Coulson?  
– The kind that’s none of your business, agent Sitwell. Agent Davis, I’m afraid that this separation will keep going on for a while. Coulson, my office!

  
Phil followed Fury to his office, there was no sign of Hill, and therefore the agent wondered if it was because this impromptu meeting had nothing to do with the A.R.T.E.M.I.S. project, Fury wasted no time with pleasantries, throwing a newspaper on the meeting table. The headline said “Marshal Davis: the playful dealer has lost his last game”. While the man was well known by the agency for being a drug dealer of importance, no information had shown that a contract was put on the black market for his head, Yet, Fury was here, showing him that deadline as it was supposed to mean something, it could mean only one thing: this job was one of Hawkeye. 

  
– There was no contract on the black market, I would have seen it…  
– Of course, you would, Coulson!   
– Which can mean two things. A) Hawkeye is close to the Mob in Detroit. B) The client is a previous and happy one. Either way, the client got in touch without intermediary.  
– You’ll take off tomorrow afternoon, visit the nightclub and see what you can find.  
– You think we could find what Hawkeye looks like? I mean, it’s poison, he had to get close to Davis. 

  
For the first time since he took over the Hawkeye manhunt, Phil felt hopeful, finding what the archer looked like was a way of filtering crowd and surrounding when Intel would informed SHIELD of an execution job Hawkeye took. Coulson bided his farewell, he still had some paperwork to do and that night was poker night with Maria Hill, Jasper Sitwell and Nathan Davis, which mean he couldn’t stay too long in his own office. 

Around five, he left the headquarters, heading to Sitwell’s house, he had the place closer from the headquarters, which had come as handy on one particular poker night that had ended with no one able to go back home or wake up on time. Hill was still unable to look into the eyes of Jasper’s wife, no matter how many time Sarah had told her that there was no grudge. As always, Garrett was already there, having been drag along by Sitwell without a doubt, Hill was right behind him and Davis would be the last, being late by fifteen minutes. 

  
– So, boss, I guess that Fury calling you into his office means my next op will be without you. Again.  
– I’m afraid so. I’ve got to meet some other agency’s director. They’ve been quite annoying on one of our ops.   
– ‘s always like that. (Garrett muttered before seeping his beer, he’s the only one with that beverage. Hill and Coulson had preferred some whiskey and the two others plus Sarah drank some fruity alcohol.) They thinks that because TV are always talking about them that means they’re the most legitimate out there. Bunch of assholes! 

  
The words are met by agreement, but no one had something to had, too busy looking at their hands, there was no point in trying to assess his co-workers; they were spy, they knew how to hide their thoughts and feelings. In retrospective, that was what make those night so frustrating, they should have settled on another game. Around 02:00 AM, Davis has passed out on the sofa, Garrett didn’t walk straight anymore which prompted Sitwell to offer his guest room, and Hill was once again profusely apologizing to Sarah, both hands gripping to the other woman’s forearm. Phil, while he was not sober, still had most of his mind clear enough to be able to go back home to rest for a few hours before leaving town. 

  
– See you soon, Phil! 

**September 2nd, 08:00 PM – Detroit (Michigan)**

  
The nightclub bouncers shared a look as they saw Agent Coulson overtaking the queue of patrons as if he owned the place, but the man made no sign of entering the club without permission, he stopped in front of the two other men and presented his badge. Agent Paul Thomas of the CIA. The more experienced of the two rise his walkie-talkie and informing his boss of an unwanted guest, someone here to stick his nose into their business. It took Phil a few minutes to explain that the CIA could not care less of their business and that he was here for the murder of Marshal Davis because the murderer was someone the CIA had been searching for a good while now. 

  
– I just need to have a look at your security cameras. 

  
Grudgingly, they showed Phil the way to the security office where the head of the security rummaged in for a while before brandishing a cassette tape, the one that would enable Coulson to put a face, and maybe a name, on the alias Hawkeye. Soon enough, the man was looking through the video, slowing it down around the death hour. The head of the security stopped the video, pointed to a face in the crown, a man surrounded by guards, and identified him as the victim, a regular of the nightclub. Not half an hour after the victim arrival, a young man made his way through the crowd and the guards, almost jumping on Davis, mincing and touching the man here and there. After a while, he took a sip out of Davis’ drink, made a face and gave back the glass, left while waving toward the bar, then the victim started convulsing and the younger man never came back. 

  
– That’s him, then. Can you rewind until we can have a good look of the other man? 

  
The man did as Phil asked, while the later took out his notebook and a pen, ready to write down everything about Hawkeye. He was young, like a decade younger than Phil, and in great shape with particularly muscular arms, without a doubt the fruit of many wears of practicing archery, and he had a military haircut, and by the way is hair seemed to be dirty-blond. No wonder he successfully got close to Davis, the man was known to like fit and muscular blond (or dirty-blond) young man. 

  
– Could you print that shot? I’d like to have a physical evidence to look at when I browsed through military data.  
– Sure. So, this murderer… He makes a habit out of killing business men? (The real question stayed unsaid: was their boss at any risk)  
– Usually, not those who don’t bath in some kind of funny business. And by “funny business” I mean: drugs, weapons, corrupted politicians, Mafiosi, sex trafficking, paedophilia, and whatnot…  
– And the CIA is still trying to stop them? I thought they’d let them on the loose…  
– Well, the killer is still committing murder for money, that’s a crime too. And we don’t know, maybe someday someone will offer an amount of money tempting enough to make them deflect from their moral guideline. 

  
The only response was a hum like the head of the security wasn’t buying the answer but didn’t want to get into an argument, which was fair, you never really knows if the officer in front of you won’t take it as insubordination to an officer. Back in college, Phil had saw that happening often enough. Once the shot was printed, Coulson left the nightclub, heading to the phone booth to call Fury and ask him to demand access to all military data, and then he informed him on his travel back to the headquarter. There was no reason for the agent to stay in Michigan any longer.

**September 16th, 02:03 PM – New-York**

  
During the two previous weeks, Phil had carried on traveling around the States, bringing back military files and whatnot to help him put a name on the archer’s face, it’s also during this time that his fellow agents (other than Sitwell, Davis and Garrett) had started asking questions about his frequent trips on solo missions that no one really knows about. Some newbies had even dared to imply that maybe Coulson wasn’t as loyal to the SHIELD as everyone led it to believe, which had prompted Hill to intervene and tell the agent to “shut the fuck” if they ever wanted to “come back from the field next time”. And now Phil was in his flat, on a day he would usually be in his office back to the headquarter, but today he had stayed home, surrounded by military files and date, sat on his sofa with an open beer within hand reach that he brought to his lips every once in a while. He looked at the clock, it’s only a matter of time before Nick Fury show up to help him out. He’s halfway through his reading material and with how the case had been going since the beginning, Phil had the strange feeling in his guts that told him that he wouldn’t find anything. 

  
– Find anything? (Fury appeared in his hallway, he owned one of the spare key, just in case)  
– Nothing. Doesn’t really surprised me. 

  
Fury only hummed in acknowledgement, making his way toward the fridge to help himself to a beer while Phil dropped of yet another useless file, muttering something about not needing to register when someone use a bow when one see the damage a well shot arrow could inflict. When Fury came back to the living room, he frowned, taking in the scene in front of him: Phil Coulson staring into space, his hands strained on his knees. 

  
– Jeez, I know this job is hard on you, but drunk after one beer???   
– Did I just say “A well shot arrow”?   
– Tell me about pointing the obvious…  
– I can’t believe I’m looking into military data… That man is an archer first, his shooting doesn’t come from a military formation. Damn it, Phil! (He muttered to himself, then turn his head to look at Fury) You remember the Coney Island Circus, a few years ago, don’t you? (No answer) There was an archer, I remember because they made a good part of their advertising around him. They said he had eyes like…  
– He got eyes like a hawk! Never miss the target… Never thought I’d have to worry about some circus boy! Did they say his name?  
– I don’t think so. (There was a minute of silence) Maybe we can try to find it in a newspaper from around that time. Or visit the circus, ask around.   
– You do that, I’ll update Hill. 

  
Fury still took time to finish his beer, only then leaving, letting the other man alone to clear up the files and put them back in the boxes. About an hour later, Phil was out of his flat, taking the tube to go to Coney Island where he didn’t waste time and directly went to the circus. The place was owned by some Robert Leblanc, a man around fifty who didn’t seem to be very sure around Phil, but he took his time inviting the agent inside his “office”, away from eavesdroppers. Coulson gladly accept the cup of coffee that he was offered, took a sip and try not to look funny, surprise by the awful taste, he put back the cup on the table, then showed the photography. It didn’t take too long for Robert Leblanc to recognize the young man, he even asked if said man was in trouble, which wouldn’t be a surprise to him, and yet, he managed to do that without naming the man even once. 

  
– No, he’s not in trouble. Why? Is it a prominent feature of his?  
– What? No! But let just say not everybody share his view of what’s right what’s not. Know what I mean?   
– Oh, I absolutely do, mister Leblanc. Trust me! Actually, that’s why I’m looking for him… I have a job that needs to be done and I wanted to get in contact with Hawkeye, but the thing is… I’ve got contact in the FBI and CIA, and right now, they’re looking a bit too much into the black market for me to post an announce. I like to let things spotless, you know what I mean?   
– Where did you get that picture?   
– Let just say Hawkeye wasn’t as discreet as he hoped in this job, not enough for someone who knows where to look. I was a patron of the club. I’m gonna be straight with you. I thought “Hawkeye, that’s remind me of the advertising from a few years ago”, it led me here and I was hoping you could put me in contact with Hawkeye. I get it if you prefer not.  
– I can’t get you in contact with Hawkeye (Leblanc was now standing, looking by the window as if making sure no one was eavesdropping), but I know a guy, Clint Barton. That’s someone you should look for, mostly around New-York. But, you didn’t hear it from me.

  
With those words, Robert Leblanc opened the door, showing Phil that now was his time to leave, and the other man didn’t need to be asked twice, quickly leaving and going back to New York. He was ecstatic, finally a name on the figure, but also a localisation, Coulson could almost feel the long needed end of this manhunt. Once he was back in his flat, he allowed himself another beer and the went straight to bed, the next few days would asked him a lot of energy, he had to rest while he could or the case would end with his own death.

Somewhere else in New-York, in his own apartment, Clint Barton was laying lazily on his sofa, feet resting on the armrest, watching the TV with a hand on his belly and the other lazily stroking the fur on Lucy’s side, the dog he had adopted a few months prior. On the corner of his eyes, he saw movement, some feet visible through the slight crack under the door, there was a knock, followed by the sound of something put on the ground, then footsteps walking away. The man opened the door and saw a brown paper envelope that he unsealed directly, disclosing, as he imagined, information on his next target: Nathan Davis, agent of SHIELD, and reasons behind the job. 


	4. Fresh blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The manhunt is nearing its end, Phil knew it for sure, but he didn't expect his own moral to come into play, making him reassess the orders given by SHIELD or even who the other agents were.

**September 17th, 12:00 AM – Clint’s flat (New-York)**

  
**Target** : DAVIS, Nathan Michael  
 **Birth date and localisation** : July 13th 1966, Austin, Texas  
 **Occupation** : SHIELD Agent, level 3

Clint was looking through the file, his new target was linked to his last, he was one of the cousin he had been closer when growing up, and apparently Nathan had a good idea of what Marshal was doing for a living, even better, he made sure no police officer went looking to closely in his cousin’s business. Reading that was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth: it had been years, but Clint was still not over the way he and Barney had fallen apart, the older had wanted Clint to be exactly like Nathan was for Marshal, someone to cover his six. The man took a sip of his mug as if the coffee would be able to wash out the taste of resentment, as if it would make history go another way. The archer resumed his reading and the more he read, the less he knew what to do, it was unusual for him to be so uncertain, he normally only need a few seconds to know if he would take the job or not. Not only was Nathan Davis linked to Marshal Davis, but he also seemed to have hung out in Daniel Lewis-Dann’s strip-club quite a few times over the past years. 

– What do you think, Lucky? Hum? Yeah, I know. This is a bad guy, but he works for SHIELD…

Could it be that SHIELD didn’t care for what their agents did as long as they had good results on their operation? Could it be that SHIELD was just a bunch of bad guys paid to kill and stop other bad guys while also being protected from any consequences their others actions could have? Clint felt nauseous, he didn’t have much fate in humanity, but he felt like with each day passing by, the world was just showing a bit more how dark and wrong it was. A knock on the door extracted him from his thoughts, the man went to open, greeted by the smiling face of his neighbour, an old lady who also owned a dog, she often came asking of Lucky could come with her and her dog for a walk in the park. It was pretty hard to refuse, mostly because Lucky wouldn’t let him do, so Clint gave her the leash, and then he went back to the file he was reading. There was a list of all the underage prostitutes of whom he had purchased the services. 

A few streets from Barton’s flat, there was Coulson’s one where the man was currently on the phone with Nick Fury, informing his boss that he now knew where Hawkeye was living, and asking of he needed to wait for backup or if he was allowed to step in, hoping to take the archer by surprise. 

– Agent Coulson, are you sure that you can take him out?   
– Too many agents in action would be impediment. We’d disturb each other. 

With Fury’s authorisation, Phil ran to the archer’s building, took a minute to get his breath back, and then took the stairs two at a time, quickly reaching the door he was looking for, bold numbers writing out “404”. He pulled out his gun, knocked out at the door and waited, he knew that Clint knew what he looked like, but also knew that the man had been leaving trace behind him for the agent to find. There was some noise inside, like a drawer being opened and closed in hurry, then footsteps getting close, just before the door opened up in front of him, revealing the young man that the security footage had shown poisoning Marshal Davis. 

– Clint Barton?   
– Yes. I don’t think you really need a confirmation, do you?   
– I’m agent Coulson, working for SHIELD. My orders are to take you out, but I’d like to do something before…

Later, Clint would deny how surprised he was by the punch coming toward his face, but on the moment, there was no denying, he hadn’t been able to dodge it or to make a move to respond to it, his only thought was that the other man was surprisingly stronger than he looked, and then he passed out. Phil dragged the body to a chair and tied him with some ropes he found while looking around the flat, then he proceeded to look for information on the archer’s employers or next jobs, information he finally found while opening about every drawer and cupboard he saw.  
When Clint opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a man sitting in his sofa, feet on the coffee table, reading the files for the few jobs lining up in his agenda, the agents was frowning and the archer hoped it was because the file in his hand was the Nathan Davis one. 

– Which one is it? Davis or Roberts?  
– Who has hired you?   
– Which job? (The man glared at him, it was pretty unsettling to be looked at with such a nonchalant glare and still be scared for you own life). It’s someone who’s trying to have his revenge on the prostitution and murder of his teenage daughter. That’s all I’m gonna say. 

Phil closed the file, thrown it on the coffee table and rubbed his forehead with a weary hand, before inhaling and exhaling slowly, as if he was trying to keep his composure. Clint asked himself if he was losing his cool because of what was written in the file or because someone found out about it. He dared making his thoughts known by the SHIELD agent, but the man kept silence, staring into space, for a few minutes anyway.

– What’s in there… It’s not true. You’re being hired for someone who’s toying with you.   
– I wouldn’t be so sure. The man has contact me for James Collins, he had a thing back then with the daughter, and when the time to pay came, he said that I was still needed for a few jobs. Until now, they all were linked to underage prostitution.  
– What about Marshal Davis? He just deal drugs. And Davis is a pretty frequent name, nothing proves that he and Nathan are relative. 

Phil stood up and started to walk around the flat, hands clasped behind his back, still inhaling and exhaling slowly. They both knew he was making excuses for Nathan Davis, Clint wasn’t dumb enough to accept a job without being sure that the guy hiring him was honest and well informed on the target. And that particular file was extremely well informed on what Nathan Davis had done, who is was linked to, where he was and when but also how long he was there. The only reason the employer hasn’t done the job himself was because it’d mean dirtying his hands.  
Clint was toying with the ropes, hoping to free himself, but he was quick to abandon the attempt, seeing that all the while Coulson had kept an eye on him. It reminded the archer of the words spoken before the punch: the orders are to take him out; Phil was armed and would use his weapon if Clint appeared to be a threat. This is not going the way he had hoped when he started leaving arrow behind him for Coulson to find. He had hoped the man would be open to discuss and maybe agree on taking him in, making him become a SHIELD agent. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure he still wanted that, after what he found on Nathan Davis. 

– Are you gonna kill me?  
– That’s the orders that I have, yes.  
– What about Davis? Are you gonna pretend he’s fine, that you’ve never read that file? You’d work with a paedophile as if there nothing wrong? (Silence) You’ve read what the file says about Elisa Holland, his sister’s daughter. She disappeared seven years ago, they found a dead body in Detroit reacting positively to drug test and showing traces of sexual intercourses. She was thirteen, no way she consented. It’s not long after Marshal started his business there and Nathan travel there around the same time.  
– Would you keep quiet? I’m thinking.   
– Oh, sorry. Didn’t know it needs lot of thinking to decide if raping and drugging a kid was wrong or not…   
– Not about that! (He frowned, once again.) Give me a minute. 

Clint looked at the agent dialling a phone number, then talking to some dude named Marius, asking him not to look after the duo, there was some setback and stuffs that needed to be taken care of. After the phone call, Phil gathered the files and put them into a shopping bag, seemingly trying to busy himself. He was still thinking about what was the best course of action, because the mercenary was right: there was no way Phil could still work with Davis as if nothing happened and yes, everything in the file was extremely incriminating. There was no denying. Clint watched the man disappeared into the kitchen, then coming back with two beers in his hands, he put them down on the coffee table, turn to the younger man, asking him to think before doing anything, and only after the archer had promised to, then he freed his hands and handed him one the two beer. He sat back on the sofa, opening his own bottle and sipping out of it. 

– Why did you draw me a trail of arrows to follow? Is it because of Davis? I was a way to lead to him? (Clint shook his head) Then why?   
– I have a dog.  
– … Come again…   
– I have a dog. His name is Lucky, the lady next door took him out for a walk in the park.   
– I don’t see what it has to do with me or SHIELD.  
– I figured some stability wouldn’t kill me… (Phil raised an eyebrow) Obviously, working for SHIELD wouldn’t be as stable as working in an office, I know that. But it’s still a salary and I’m not asking some old lady to keep an eye on Lucky. More importantly, I have someone to watch my back.  
– I wouldn’t be so sure… There is a lot of agents who want you dead. You did killed a lot of us.   
– What about you?   
– I can think of someone I’d rather see dead right now. And I’m not stupid, having someone who shoots like you… That something SHIELD shouldn’t turn its nose up at, the boss think so too, but you became a nuisance. I don’t know if we can let it slide. (He seemed to be talking to himself more than to Clint. But then he leaned toward the archer.) Here’s what we’re going to do…

  
**September 17th, 07:45 PM – Nathan Davis’ flat (New-York)**

  
Nathan closed the door of his flat with his foot, his hands full of groceries that he quickly went to put down in the kitchen, he started putting things in the cupboards and in the empty fridge. As a field agent, he rarely filled the fridge, only when he knew for sure that he wouldn’t be needed on the field for a while. And as always when he filled the fridge, he had bought a good bottle of wine to enjoy while cooking and eating a good homemade meal, this time it would be lamb with pasta and pesto. But before doing anything, Nathan put on some music and only then started to get everything ready to cook. He had been busy with the meat when a knock on the door made him pause and leave the kitchen to open, still unsure since he hadn’t been waiting any visitor. On the other side stood Phil Coulson, as nonchalant as ever, but holding a pack of beers in his hand, and he walked in, greeting friendly the previously cooking man. Nathan refused the beer, but proposed a glass of wine that Coulson refused, putting the beers on the kitchen table. 

– What brought you here? I thought Fury sent you away for some administrative work. Not that you’re bothering me.  
– I’ve been home for the two last weeks, I had some things to clear up. That’s actually why I’m here. (He paused, which prompted Nathan to wash out his hand and sit at the kitchen table with his handler.) I… Stumbled in a murder case, the poisoning of Marshal Davis. You know, he is from Texas too, from Austin to be precise.   
– Yeah, I get where you’re going. Marshal’s a cousin, but we didn’t really stay in touch. Hell, my uncle didn’t even tell me for his dead, I learned it from my mother a few days after the funeral. Doesn’t really matter, I don’t mix with that side of the family.   
– Hum… What about you’re sister’s side of the family? What’s her daughter’s name? Ashley?  
– I believe it was Elisa, agent Coulson. 

The new voice made Nathan jumped in his seat, he turned toward the new comer, who wasn’t really a new comer, he had been inside the flat since before the owner did, but the archer had stayed hidden in the bedroom and had profited of the two men’s talk to get closer to the kitchen, just like agent Coulson had asked him to do. Nathan looked from Phil to Clint, then back to Phil, trying to proceed what was happening, who the man was and why he and his handler seemed to know each other. 

– Who’s that? (Turning toward Clint) How did you come in?  
– This is Hawkeye and I gave him the key you gave me in case of emergency, since I’m your handler. Hawkeye, here, is actually what my administrative work was and he also killed Marshal. But that’s for after.  
– Yeah. Right now we’d like you to answer to the question: did you mix with Elisa?   
– I don’t understand what you mean…  
– Are you the one that raped her? (Clint’s question was met by silence, but Davis’ face was getting paler with each second passing by) So? I don’t think it’s hard to answer, is it yes or no?   
– Why would you think that? Phil, for serious, are you really considering this?   
– Hawkeye was also hire to kill James Collins who frequented the strip-club owned by Daniel Lewis-Dann who is known for underage prostitution. You know what’s the link between Marshal and Daniel Lewis-Dann? The name “Nathan Michael Davis”. Now, answer the question, agent.   
– It was almost a decade ago! Things have changed, I … (He stopped talking when Phil put on the table the list with all the underage prostitute he had paid over the years). Okay, I paid for their services, and that means nothing. That doesn’t mean I know how old they were. Jesus! Phil, don’t tell me you’ve never paid a hooker without knowing how old they were. I’m sure you did, stop playing the saint. You’re not better than me. 

Phil had stopped listening to the other man, he turned his head toward Clint and nodded, allowing the archer to execute the babbling man. The arrow went through Davis’ head, entering above his ear and exiting above his other one, before driving into the wall; the action made a squishy sound that would have made Coulson be sick if he hadn’t been so used to disgusting displays throughout his years as a SHIELD agent. On his side, Clint seemed pretty proud of himself, grinning like a kid showing of to his parents and for a minute, he didn’t look a day over fifteen. Phil almost felt bad for what he was about to do, even if they both had agreed on it prior their meeting with Davis, he took out his gun and pointed the barrel to the younger man’s tight, then he shot, the gunshot resonating inside the quiet flat. Only then did Phil called Fury to tell him he had caught Hawkeye, but that the other man was still alive and the reason had to be talked about between them and in person, but also inform him of the death of agent Nathan Davis.

  
**September 24th, 09:00 AM – SHIELD headquarters (New York)**

  
The office was quiet, both men were looking each other straight in the eye, evaluating each other: Fury wanted to see if the agent would back off from his explanation, Coulson wanted to see if Fury would call him out of his bullshit. They both knew that this was going deeper than that, they were testing if both of them were ready to risk bringing Hawkeye in the equation of the mess that SHIELD was already. Finally, Nick nodded, took a bottle of whiskey from his bottom drawer and purred them both a drink. They drank in silence for a while, finished their first glass and Fury purred a second one to both of them, then only did they started really talking.

– We had a paedophile in our rank and no one knew… What does it mean about our agents… What was his excuse?   
– You know, the usual. I didn’t know how old they were, stop judging Phil, you’ve done it too, I’m sure. But that’s not what bothers me the most. He didn’t even look sorry for what he did to his niece!   
– Motherfucker… 

A knock on the door interrupted them, Maria Hill came in, leading Clint Barton who was walking with crutches because of the gunshot in his right tight, the doctor had said that it wouldn’t have no consequences and would healed pretty well if taken care of. The archer came to sit on the chair on Phil’s left, nodding at both man while finding a good position to avoid any extra pressure on his leg. Hill left while Fury was purring Clint a cup of coffee. When the three men were sat and all had a drink in their hands, they started debriefing the previous event.

– Barton, can you tell me briefly how the event happened.  
– Sure. I arrived at Nathan Davis’ flat and get inside by the fire escape, the window was opened. Agent Coulson, here, was already there and talking with Davis. Well, talking. They were mostly speaking harshly to each other, and agent Coulson seemed to be confronting him about something. I heard the name Elisa Holland, which surprised me, few people would have made the link without knowing where to look. Then I heard the name James Collins and references to prostitution. That’s when I started to look after Davis file that I should have had on me, I always do that when on a job. Rookie mistake, I let it back at my flat. Anyway, I got ready to shot my arrow and the agent saw me, it was too late. No matter what I’d do, I was going to get caught, so I got closer and took my shoot. Agent Coulson shot me in the tight and while we were waiting for the backup, he questioned me on my motives and moral attitude.   
– Agent Coulson. (Silence) How did you find out about the Nathan Davis as in: he was the target and his paedophilia issue?   
– I had got Hawkeye’s address, so I went, wanting to use surprise effect to take him out since those were my orders. The flat was empty, I looked around to find information about his next job, it was Nathan Davis. There was a pretty well informed file in a drawer, I pulled it out and read it, since we had make up a profile for Hawkeye’s victims. They all were linked to some funny business, I wanted to know what was held against Davis. It did help that Hawkeye’s last target was Marshal Davis, the cousin of Nathan Davis who was linked to Marshal but also James Collins and Daniel Lewis-Dann. That’s also how we found out that Lewis-Dann wasn’t the one who hired Hawkeye but a man named Victor Elliot who wanted to avenge the dead and prostitution of his teenage daughter. I went to Davis’ flat, hoping to not be too late, but also wanting to confront him. He defended himself for a while, before admitting and starting to get aggressive toward me. I saw Hawkeye ready to shot, he saw me and get closer, shot and I shot. After that, I decided against killing him, he seemed to have a moral code that could make him be a big asset for SHIELD. That and his ability as a sniper.   
– Good. Mister Barton, as you heard right now, agent Coulson is suggesting that SHIELD recruit you to be an agent. We had this discussion before you came in, it was just a way to verify the facts. Agent Hill will lead you to the administration so you filled the paperwork. You’ll follow her everywhere until assigned to a handler. It is a security concern, you’re not in friendly territory here. Is that clear?   
– Isn’t the agent recruit me supposed to be my handler?  
– Not always. (Phil spoke directly to Clint for the first time since he came in the office) Anyway, given my latest experience… I’d prefer not being a handler for a while… Or even going on the field… I plan to enjoy some times off. 


	5. What a gift...

**March 15 th 1997, 03:00 PM – Helen Bishop’s house (New York)**

The house was crowded by people, a lot of whom Phil had never met. He rarely had the occasion to bring Katherine to school, mostly because due to his career path, his daughter only stayed at his place when he was free and she was in holyday, this way they could fully enjoy their time together. That was why the only parents known to Coulson were those of Katherine close friends, the kids she asked to have playtime with during the summer: Alex, Tommy, Sam and Lilly. But today, all the little girl’s schoolmates were invited to celebrate her eight birthday with them, that meant twenty-three kids and their parents whom were trying to socialise with Phil, asking tons of questions about his job and how it was to be allowed to travel around the world for a living. Busy bringing drinks to every new comer, Helen was no help to extract the agent from the awkward first meeting’s talk. Phil took a sip of his soda, trying to pay attention to the woman in front of him.

\- Helen said you work for the government, right? As some sort of officer…

\- I do, that’s right.

\- What kind of officer?

\- I’m a movable element of the task force… (The woman has started playing with the straw in her drink). That means I’ve got a military background which come as handy when police force face some delicate issue. I’m send wherever they need help.

\- Whoa! That’s interesting. What kind of delicate situation did you have to deal with?

\- I don’t think you’ve heard of any… We try to keep it under wraps. There is no need to alarm everybody if we can help.

\- It makes sense! Have you ever been to Detroit? I’ve visited the city a few times, my aunt lives there. She said that since Marshal Davis’ murder, it’s even less safe to be a tourist than it already was.

\- I’m not sure that I’ve followed your train of thought…

\- Oh, it’s just… I’m guessing that it might be your next destination if you’re send where the situation is getting sensitive…

\- Right! Yes, maybe. 

Fortunately, Katherine came into the living room, asking that her father came along them to play tea-party so the boys would stop saying that it was a girl’s game. He sat down between her and Alex, pretending to sip into the ridiculously small cup of tea that was part of a set his daughter was particularly fond of, because Phil gave it to her for her last birthday. It apparently seemed of circumstances to use it, celebrating its first year as a member of the Coulson family. He was about to accept an imaginary scone when the ring of his phone made itself known, earning him a cold glare from Helen when he quickly looked what it was. Evan Simon, a fellow senior agent, but with whom he had relatively few contacts unless it was an emergency. He push on the “decline” digit and put the devise back into his pocket. Why had he brought his professional phone with him? Mostly by habitude at this point….

\- Was it your work?

\- No, darling. It was a wrong number. Now, where is my scone?

A big smile appeared on Katherine’s face, and Coulson told himself that he could for once not be on top of his professional game; Fury be damned, Agent Simon would have to deal with his business on his own. He took the scone out of Katherine’s grasp, biting into it without fear, he knew Helen was a formidable cook and he still profited of this talent by coming around for dinner each time he came back from a job out of New-York. After an hour or so of playing tea-party, it was time for Katherine to blow out the candles and open her presents which were plentiful. Phil went to stand beside Helen, watching the little girl unwrap present after present: a doll from Alex, a drawing book from Sam, a new dress from her aunt, etc. Then came the moment to open mom and dad’s present, she genuinely shrieked when the new cello revealed itself.

It was around 7 PM when Phil bided his goodnight to Katherine, after having helped Helen clean up the house. He walked back home, giving the change in his pocket to the homeless man in the park near, and run up the stairs. Being surrendered by so many kids usually made him full of nervous energy. But as he was closer to his flat, the voice in his head was telling Phil that he wouldn’t be alone tonight. Not after refusing an emergency call. He was right, he opened the front door to reveal Nick Fury sitting on his couch with a glass of what seemed to be the whiskey Phil kept hidden under the bathroom sink, since it had happen that Nick broke into the flat and help himself a whiskey and empty the bottle. Looked like he would have to find a better place to hide his emergency bottle.

\- What is it, this time?

\- It’s always a matter of death, I don’t know why you keep asking…

\- Yeah, well the last time wasn’t as much of a matter of death as you said it was, do I need to remind you?

\- It was, motherfucker! My liver wouldn’t have survived if I was alone to drink a full bottle! This time, agent Simon was _this_ close to be dead.

\- Was he not with May and Barton?

\- Yes, this motherfucker was almost killed by them. He blew May cover, so Barton had to make sure no one followed her as she left. Back to the hotel room, she confronted Simon but apparently he wouldn’t admit the mistake and she stabbed him with a tranquilizer.

\- I guess that the extraction couldn’t be done until he woke up, so they called me...

\- Then me.

Nick purred whiskey into both of their glasses, silent, while Phil let his head fall onto the back of the sofa, his hand massaging the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t believe that one of their first reaction for making a mess was calling him to fix it, they were supposed to be grown up adults and more importantly, at least one of them should have knew that Phil wasn’t the best option when trying to get extraction, he wasn’t that high into the hierarchy of the SHIELD.

**-** Call me paranoiac, but I think putting May and Barton together in a team might be one of the worst idea that Hill has had in a while.

\- Well, I’d say that apparently it’s true if they’re being supervised by Simon. Why not Sitwell?

\- May can’t stand him on a mission.

\- But, I don’t get why she was on the job, she can do it without supervision. She’s not a junior agent…

\- I must say, they actually did a good job if we forget the whole Simon thing.

Phil didn’t answer, he felt in his guts that Fury was about to have a wonderful idea that would be wonderful for everybody but Coulson, just like what happened when he decided to appointed Phil as the responsible of the A.R.T.E.M.I.S case. It ended well, but Phil had felt as he had lose a decade from his life longevity. He bottomed up his glass, not even bothering to hide his distress, then purred himself another drink. Yeah, his liver would have a hard time recovering from this unprompted visit from fury.

**March 16 th 1997, 09:00 AM – SHIELD headquarter (New York)**

Clint and Melinda were sat in the cafeteria, one on each side of the table, drinking their coffee while filling up the rapport that had to be on Fury’s destk before the end of the day. Bullshit, Clint kept muttering as he filled the papers, he hadn’t been part of the SHIELD for long, but he knew for sure that Fury never ask for the rapport to be on his desk before weeks if not months later. He kinda like May (that was the first time he met her), but there was no denying that all of this was her fault, but also kinda Simon’s too. He finished his cup of coffee, made a face, then decided to go buy another one. Working for SHIELD would be the end of his wallet.

Melinda barely looked at him as he stood and left the table, but she automatically took a bit more of the table surface as a way of punishing him for all the “bullshit” she had to listening without complaining. Yes, it was kinda her fault, but it was mostly Simon. The other man was lucky he only had been tranquilize, he could have got her killed with his unprofessionalism. She distinctly heard footsteps getting closer, but kept writing on the papers, it wasn’t Barton because buying a coffee at 9AM took longer than that, but anyway, she already knew whose steps this was. The man stopped right beside the table, leaned over to get a glimpse of what May was writing. Phil Coulson.

\- Agent May, where is agent Barton.

\- Getting coffee, sir.

\- It seems way too early for both of you doing paperwork. What is it all about?

\- That’s our bullshit of a punishment for the mess that we apparently made on our own.

Clint had arrived with his new cup of coffee, sitting without a look for Coulson. He frowned as the space on the table didn’t meet the memory he had in his mind, then he looked at May, unimpressed. Taking his paper with him, he moved along the table, sitting at the other end. Phil sighed, both because of the answer and because of the action.

**-** I’m supposed to be giving you the punishment. Who gave you this one? Simon. (A look of realisation came across both of their faces, then the two agents shared a look, ashamed of having been played this easily). We’ll do the rapport later. Come on.

\- Where are we going?

\- Well, Clint. You’ll have the privileged of spending a few hours in my office. We’re going to have a talk. As privately as we can, which means not in the cafeteria.

They took an elevator, none of them daring to speak a words before being in the privacy of Coulson’s office. May had been there once or twice, but never for a long time, just long enough to drop a paper or something of that kind. Clint closed the door since he was the last to get inside, he naturally started making mentally an inventory of the room as he got closer to the desk, sitting in the awful chair that Fury usually use and was unable to suppress the frustration from showing on his face. May had chosen to lean against the wall. There were a few minutes of silence, then Coulson listed what Fury had told him about their job.

**-** What I’d like to know is why on earth did you call me first? I wouldn’t have been able to do much, I don’t have that kind of power on the extraction team… You know that, May.

\- We thought that you, better than anyone else, would understand that the situation was a result of Simon’s unprofessionalism.

\- Oh, I do. But I still wouldn’t have been able to get you out of this mess. Anyway, I was busy. You have to follow the chain of command. That’s primordial.

**-** Is this the talk you wanted to have in private, Coulson? Because, I would rather have this conversation in the cafeteria. The chairs aren’t that good, but better than this one!

\- No, Barton. And, it’s Agent Coulson. (If he didn’t know better, Phil would swear he saw the ghost of a smile on Melinda’s lips). Even though the job was a mess and you were supervised by an idiotic agent, Director Fury seems to think that giving the opportunity both of you could form a good team.

\- Are you telling me the rumour were true? SHIELD is trying to form strike team?

\- It has to stay confidential for now. Especially because we are putting a lot of trust onto a very recent recruit who is still proving his worth.

\- I don’t work well in team. (Barton intervened, seemingly unfazed by Coulson’s words) And two agents don’t make a team, it’s a duo or partnership.

\- I never said it was the only two of you. Your next mission will mostly be as a team, with a few exception to avoid questioning from other agents, and I’ll supervised the team job. If the experience shows good results, we might considered opening the team for others agents as long as they can work with the dynamic of this team. (He pointed toward each of them).

\- Does that mean that you are our handler?

\- Yes, Barton, I am.

\- I knew you would change your mind.

\- Right… As your handler, this is your first task: finish your rapport before the end of the week. I’m being nice, in the future, I want them on my desk two days after the mission so I can read them before giving them to Fury.


	6. Getting to know each other

**April 22 nd 1997, 12:00 – London**

It was raining, the sky was dark and sinister, and Clint was located high, watching closely as Robert McFern was talking on the phone, walking around the hotel room without minding the opened curtains. You would have believed that with how much of a target he was, the man would have learn how to secure himself. He was a trafficker in contact with some new terrorist organisation with whom he was meeting that day to make a deal, SHIELD feared it could be used in an upcoming bombing in Glasgow where would happen a political meeting with a few leaders of the Commonwealth. No one wanted that to happen which was how Barton, May and Coulson found themselves travelling to London, monitoring every single one McFern’s movement, waiting for the organisation to come. The orders were simple: no one should be leaving the place alive except the dealer whom they would interrogate later to build a list of his contact. It could always come as handy.

Around one PM, some dudes started heading to the hotel, watching suspiciously around as to make sure they weren’t followed by anyone; so easy to spot, if Clint hadn’t already known that those guys were fairly new to the business, he would have guess by the way they acted. They got inside, Melinda was already in there, she was going to stand not far from the room to stop any fugitives when Clint would start the shooting. Inside the room, McFern wasn’t on the phone anymore, he put on a suit jacket, pour some whiskey in a glass; the man had an eye for staging, Barton had to give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar. As the men started coming inside the room, Barton started talking in his coms:

“Not that I feel particularly bad for shooting terrorists, but it’s a shame to kill guys that young.”

“Well, they saw big for a first action. They should have find some other hobbies or at least some smaller targets if they wanted to die from an old age.”

It took Clint by surprise, Phil hadn’t answer to any of the man small talk since the beginning of the operation, and that’s what he choose to react on? Before he could answer, the archer caught one of the terrorist taking out his gun to punt it to McFern’s head, it was time to get in action. The first arrow touched that man, then the one on his right, the two others had run out of the room to meet Melinda who wouldn’t have any difficulties to deal with them. During that time, McFern had took the gun on the ground and approached the window to look where the arrows came from, and when he thought he had found the localisation, he started shooting, but not quick enough and an arrow got through his right side.

“Done.”

“Good job, Hawkeye! Agent May, what’s your situation?”

“They’re down, sir.”

“Good.”

It was their second job as a team and both time had been successful, but Phil wouldn’t say per se that it meant that the team worked well together, it most likely that the success came from the easy nature of said jobs. He choose them himself, wanting to get acclimated to their dynamic and operating style before sending them on Op that would be more difficult to deal with. Also, but that was his secret, short and easy mission like this allowed Phil to be more often in New-York, which meant that he could be more often with Katherine. The team cleaned up everything, Barton leaving first with the prisoner while Melinda kept the front desk busy so no one saw the deeply unsettling spectacle of a bloody man being led out of the hotel, Phil was calling Sitwell so the man would bring the van in front of the hotel. They didn’t want the bleeding prisoner to be walking through the city with Barton who was still learning to look friendly on most day. And he didn’t have coffee that day.

Surprisingly, when they got back to the private plane, Phil was met by the vision of Clint already working on his report, and then the archer informed him that he wanted to be work free for the next few days because some girl from Detroit was coming to New York and he had promised her a date during their last phone call. Sophia.

“Do you have someone, boss?”

“None of your business, Barton.”

**April 25 th 1997, 08:15 PM – New York, Katherine Bishop’ school.**

That night, Katherine played Cello for the first time in front of an audience as part of the annual talent show of her school. Last year, she already asked to be part of it, but the teacher had deemed her a bit too young to handle such an instrument in the show, there were so many incident that could happen. But this year was the year! Sat in the middle of the other parents, just beside Helen, Phil looked at her proudly, she was playing perfectly the partition. Well, that’s what Phil thought, but he was her father, he wasn’t much of an objective point of view. He applauded, sharing a proud smile with Helen, none of them had any talent for music which made it more impressive that their eight year old little girl could put so much work and passion into an instrument.

Another kid came on stage, reciting poetry while acting the words, and Phil saw the woman on his left wiped her eyes, certainly the mother, with a hand while the other hold the camera above the crow, shaking but never going down. When the boy left the stage, the woman turn toward Phil, murmuring into his ears that Steve had put so much hard and train so hard for this representation. Coulson smiled knowingly. After that, kids kept going on stage and leaving, warmly applauded by the audience, but somehow you could always tell whose parents where theirs by the clapping that was going slightly louder and harder than the rest of the public.

“Should we take her out to eat something after?”

“Yeah, she’ll be hungry. Do you remember after her dance show? She ate so much, I don’t know where all the food went.”

“Oh yes, I remember! None of us could finish our plates, but she ate hers and our rest.”

**April 25 th 1997, 10:20 PM – New York, a pizza place **

“Lore was really impressed, she says my cello is cool and she wants one for her birthday.”

Katherine’s voice rang our inside the quiet restaurant as the little family came in, it’s getting late and the place is pretty discreet from the outside which meant that the restaurant survive mostly on regular patron and had very rarely new face coming in. Phil wasn’t per se a regular, but he had stopped by a few times, mostly after a hard day of paper and didn’t want to cook, and he had took Katherine a few time on the last day of school or when he saw her after a long mission away from New York. He usually sat in the table in the back, in a corner, where he could watch the room.

“But her mom didn’t seem too happy. Her mom wants her to be a ballerina.”

They sat, both still listening to their daughter’s rambling, Lore’s mom being in the centre because she wasn’t funny, Phil had no idea of who the woman was, but Helen sure did since she kept pursing her lips in a way that Phil had come to link with judgment. After commanding their food, the two ladies left him at the table to go to the bathroom, and thus Coulson started scanning the room with his eyes, he had felt weird since getting inside. Soon enough, his eyes met those of Clint who was sat on the other side of the restaurant with a young woman, she might have been a few years younger than the archer and didn’t seem to catch on that Clint wasn’t completely focus on her. So this was his date from Detroit. Why had he took her so far from his flate? Finally, he looked away, smiled at the girl and stole a quarter of pizza out of her plate.

“Is everything okay?” asked Helen as she sat in front of him, a worried look on her face. “You look lost in thought…”

“It’s nothing! I was just wondering when this…” he poked Katherine with a finger, teasingly “… little princess was going to tell us that she was a prodigal musician.”

“Stop it, dad!”

*

Sofia was talking about her roommate who apparently had decided that their place was also her boyfriend’s since his roommate had thrown him out. Why had been thrown out, Clint couldn’t really tell, he had been paying only half attention to her, keeping a discreet eye on Coulson. Well, discreet for everyone who wasn’t an agent of SHIELD. He bit in the pizza, rising an eyebrow in disbelieve at the anecdote being told by Sofia, she had appreciated it, saying that it had been long since she was allowed to confide to someone who truly got her. During the rest of the date, she told him stuff about her and her family, stuff about her studies, and the archer would add a comment or share a made-up experience of his own. From the exterior and Sofia’s point of view, it looked like he was fully immerged into the discussion, but his mind kept wandering to the family at the table in the corner. The little girl wasn’t ten yet, but she seemed to be already well spoken, and the woman, although close in age, didn’t seem romantically inclined toward Coulson. Was this a date that was supposed to spurn him down?

“Hey, do you thing we could share a part of tiramisu? It’s one of my favourite and I’ve never eat it made by Italians.”

“Yeah, sure. My mom used to make a killer tiramisu!”

Clint didn’t dare to tell her that Italian New Yorker weren’t as Italian as they liked to pretend, he played along, making up yet another story of his marvellous mother who was the best cook he had ever met in his life. They ate the tiramisu, sharing a single plate, despite the dubious look that the waiter gave them, and yes, Clint shared his point of view: it was weird, not as romantic as the movie made it look to be. He went along her ideas, he kind of liked her and he also needed to let off steam, he had so much pent-up energy since working with SHIELD, he was more often at home than not and he wasn’t use to this kind of life anymore.

Later, they were back to her hotel room, lying in the bed with a cover thrown over their exhausted and satisfied bodies which were shining from the reflects of the light on their sweaty limbs. Sofia’s fingers drew odd patterns on his chest, now and then she would pressed a kiss on the skin, pinch or tease, but none of them made a move for a second round. This was good, this was easy, Clint hadn’t feel so at ease in a while, that might have worried him if he had been more awake.

**April 28 th 1997, 09:00 AM – SHIELD headquarter**

“Hey boss! How was your weekend?”

“None of your business, Barton. My business is my business, I don’t want to hear about it around the SHIELD, _capice_?”

“Yes, sir. That means your weekend wasn’t that good?”

Clint kept quiet after that before Coulson could think of a way to make him die in awful pain. Maybe the lady from the restaurant had set things clear, she wasn’t that much into the older man and said man had a hard time dealing with it? Breakup and heartbreak were hard for everybody, even super SHIELD agent. He still followed Coulson to his office, stayed at the door while the man had sat in his comfy chair. Clint had nothing to do.

“Go to the gym.”

“I can’t, there are a lot of agents training, last time I almost get in a fight with two of them. I have to wait for the early evening now, order from agent Hill.”

“Where is May?”

“She took the week of to visit her mother.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“No.”

“Right… Read that manual, it’s a debutant guide for undercover mission. Don’t interrupt me, I know you have done some, but we will test how well you can create a cover and held on it.”

Clint sat on the ground, he had no masochist strike telling him to sit on the torturing chair in front of the desk, and started reading even if the situation was ridiculous from his point of view: going undercover wasn’t something you learn with theory. At some point during his reading, a cup of coffee appeared by his side, with the perfect amount of milk and sugar. At least he knew he hadn’t been the only one observing his co-worker thought Clint couldn’t tell how Coulson did take his coffee. Then after reading a few pages, the archer asked his handler if he could have a paper and a pen, he wanted to take notes, that request earned him a surprised look from the older agent. They both kept working in silence until Maria Hill came in to give the information they had been able to gather from McFern’s interrogation.

“Apparently, our friend was supposed to have a meeting in New York during the coming week. McFern said that they didn’t give him any name, not that it’s a surprise, but they’re from a big organisation, the kind where lower members are kept in the dark concerning the leaders’ identities.”

“Hydra?”

“Looks like it might be them, yes.”

“But why would they get in touch with an arm dealer?” Silence. “Maybe they wanted McFern to become an intermediary, made him recruit new members for them.”

“They’re getting reckless, that’s all I can think of this.”

“You know the meeting information? We could set a trap.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t other recruiter in New York at the same time.”

“Do we have any potential recruits out there? We might want to track them to see if they got on Hydra side.”

“I’ll ask Fury.”

“Do we have a list of potential members of Hydra and those we know for sure?” Clint spoke for the first time since agent Hill had came in. “That might help us identifying potential treat.”

“We do…” started Phil with a frown. “What’s going on? You look awfully nervous.”

Clint didn’t answer directly, his eyes looked down to the paper he had been writing on, it was a list of details to look at while doing undercover to make sure the person in front of you was authentic and not another undercover agent from a rival organisation. Reading the manual hadn’t been such a bad idea at the end.

“I think I know one of the recruiter. And also someone they try to recruit…”

“You’re thinking of the girl at the pizza place? Sophia, is that right?” Clint could only nod. “Which mean… that you are one of the member they’re trying to recruit.”

“I don’t know if it’s her true name, but she introduced herself as Sophia Lauren, came in the States from England to be closer to her dad.”

“Sophia Lauren? As in Georges Lauren? And she gave you her real name? Damn they were pretty confident about recruiting you!” Hill was torn between chuckling incredulously and being alarmed by the situation.


	7. What to expect when they try to recruit you

**April 28 th 1997, 05:00 PM – SHIELD headquarter (New York)**

They were all in the big conference room, the one with full glass wall where everyone could see what was happening but without the sound, the one made for dramatic purpose because you could tell there was some drama going on but there was no way to know what that was about. The “they” consisted in Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, Clint Barton, Jasper Sitwell, Gerald Robertson, Elisabeth Chan, Nelly Casey, Victor Edgard, Louis Frank and the director Nick Fury. They were ten meeting on the subject of Clint being targeting by Hydra for recruitment, that was a lot of agents, and they spend the first hour interrogating Barton to make sure that Sophia Lauren had no idea that the archer had joined the rank of SHIELD. He was sure, she had kept asking what he did for a living and his answer had always been the same: he worked as a contractor, the profession allowed him to travel a lot and see the world. Then they ask when the first contact with the girl was. Just before the Davis job.

“Which one?”

Coulson was the one to ask, surprising most of the people in the room, very few people knew that Nathan Davis had been a job from Hawkeye, Fury had wanted this execution to be under the radar. It would have done no good for agents to know that SHIELD had recruit of the murderer of one of them, just after the death, no matter that the moral behind the kill was good. The secrecy didn’t matter anymore, Clint had made his proof as a valuable asset for SHIELD and the timeline was important, but still, there were a few looks between Frank and Casey, they were good friends with Nathan if Phil remembered correctly.

“Marshal Davis.”

“Barton, when is the next time you were supposed to meet Miss Lauren?”

“Tomorrow, director. I had asked to have my day off, we were going to a fancy restaurant she’d eared of.”

“Sound suspect coming from someone living in Detroit, close to her father, and coming from England. My guess is: you were meeting the _padre_ , man.”

“Thanks, Victor. We know, that’s why we’re having this meeting.”

If Clint wasn’t feeling so dumb, he might have laugh at Coulson salty answer, the man seemed to be out of patience that day, all because the archer hadn’t been careful enough, and it was such a dumb mistake. The ten agents started coming up with ideas to set a trap and but nine PM, Fury called it a day, they shouldn’t make the operation too big, it wasn’t a big Hydra op, the information they had pointed toward a quick recruitment meeting, nothing more. Clint was the last to leave, and walking slowly, he was stopped by his handler when he passed by Coulson’s office, the man was locking the door.

“You’re oddly quiet, Barton. This is a weird change of scenery.”

“Don’t feel like bragging, sir.”

They walked side by side, quiet for most part, then Phil broke the silence when they reached the street: if the younger could wait before eating, Phil would go shopping to get everything he need to cook, then come by his flat. It took Clint by surprise, but who was he to question free cooking, he agreed and went back home where Lucky came crashing into his legs, then jumping around the man in a way that was far too energetic for that time of the day. Half an hour later, the front doored opened, revealing Agent Coulson whom was met by the same welcome than Clint earlier, it then downed to the younger man that this was the first time that his handler was seeing the dog. If he was annoyed by Lucky’s excitation, the agent didn’t show any trace, petting the dog’s head with a soft hand and Clint couldn’t hear, but he was sur that the other man was baby talking. Later they were eating silently watching a football game rerun. He didn’t like the sport at all, Phil’s eyebrows raised up, asking him to explain, there wasn’t really an explanation, they saw enough brutal violence of the job to seek for more during their free time.

“Me neither”

“Then why are watching this?”

“You put it on, Barton. Don’t look at me.”

“I just put something on so we didn’t speak about my rookie mistake”

“Well, you are a rookie.” Clint was about to defend himself, but the older man didn’t give him the time to. “You might have done this kind of things for a while, but you were a mercenary for most of it. You had no reason to be alarmed by recruiting methods, it was part of your lifestyle. If she had looked like a treat, you might have seen through her goals. Add to this that she was pretty, around your age and flirting…”

“You mean that I think with my dick?”

“No, I mean that the prospect of having someone living in another state and being interested in you despite knowing that you both wouldn’t live together or be _steady_ …. Well, it’s pretty tempting for people in our line of work.”

“You make way too much sense for this time of the day… And you had a beer!”

“I’m always on top of my game, no matter how drunk or how late.”

That earned a chuckle from Clint, that and the deadpan with which the sentence had been delivered. Both men finished eating in silence, only sharing commentaries of the game here and there, mostly mocking, until Phil bided his goodbye, telling his agent to go to sleep and not to worry too much for the day after, the job would be a quick one, he might as well enjoyed it. Clint supposed he was right, he went to bed and for once, he allowed Lucky to sleep with him. Usually, he wouldn’t, thinking that with his line of work, it might be better to avoid letting the dog become too close and dependant. And because Clint moved a lot while sleeping and Lucky had his fair play of abuse before getting adopted by the archer, they had that in common.

**April 29 th, 11:45 AM – ** **_Assiette du chef_ ** **Restaurant, New York**

The restaurant didn’t look particularly engaging from the outside, the façade was small, and lights directly nested into the wall, the front doors in green painted wood, above it there were bronze letters spelling the name of the restaurant. A few people waited outside, some smocking and chatting around, some on the phone, and one man was reading the restaurant set menu which was hooked next to a window. Clint had joined Sophia at her hotel and both walked to the restaurant, making small talk, she had visited the museum the day before and call her mother who had always wanted to come to New York. As they arrived to the restaurant, the British girl waived to a man across the street who looked similar to her, they shared the same nose, the same eyes colour and the same chin. Her father, Georges, she was very sorry to tricked Clint into meeting her father, it was a late plan: he had been in Now York for two days and had wanted to meet her for lunch, the occasion was too perfect to ignore it and now Clint and her father were meeting. It was fine, there was more awful scenario to be trick into, no need to worry, he’ll live, and if they kept seeing each other, Clint might as wall meet Georges Lauren. The three of them entered the building, a hostess led them to their table and gave each one a menu, wishing them an enjoyable time to the _Assiette du chef_ restaurant. Clint felt out of place, but pretended that everything was fine, asking Georges if it was his first time in New Work and how it was going.

“It’s a little bit overwhelming, but luckily for me, my dear Sophia told me that she knew someone that could make the city a little bit clearer.” The man smiled, but it didn’t reached his eyes. “How long have you been living here?”

“Too long! New York and I are like those old couple: we love each other but the smallest thing is enough to stir an argument, you know?”

“Argh, I know that feeling way too well! I felt the same way with London when I used to live there. Colleagues from around the country or from the outside would always asked me tons of things about the city as if it was the most exotic place in the world. You know what I told them?”

“I don’t know?”

“That’s right, that’s what I told them!”

A waitress brought their plates, a dull was made into the conversation while each tasted their food and drank, it was pretty early, but they still had ordered a bottle of wine, Georges had proclaimed himself a connoisseur. Above the man’ shoulder, Clint saw Nelly Casey bringing plates to a small group, their eyes met and the other agent offer a small smile that could easily passed for being directed to one of the patron. Georges brought up a new subject in the conversation, Clint’s professional status, he sounded overly interested in the topic, admitting that it was kind of rare for someone this young to have been freelance for so long. Did he not want to be a bit steadier, has he not grown bored of always moving around?

“Getting bored of moving? No, I like travelling, especially in nice condition, that’s not a luxury I’ve always had. And my skills are not the kind that are useful in a permanent contract.”

“Permanent contract doesn’t always mean staying in place.” Mr. Lauren took a sip of his wine. “I’m often travelling around the world to meet people or to supervise project. Have you ever been outside of the U.S. William??”

“A few times. My skills are internationally requested.”

“Of that, I’m well aware, son.” There was a pause. “The people for whom I work are extremely aware of what happened internationally, mind you, more so when a concurrent is wiped of the map.”

Clint pretended to look slightly concern and on his guard, being too nonchalant could tip Lauren onto his collaboration with SHIELD had told him Hill during the meeting. A smirk appeared on the older man’s face, he waved in a way supposed to put Barton at ease, a mix between nonchalance and pacifism, the man wanted to keep an image of himself as pleasant. Sophia’s hand came to rest between the archer’ shoulder blades, caressing the skin under to relax Clint. Father and Daughter were prepared and synchronised in their action to a point where the man didn’t know if he found it funnier or more frightening.

“Nothing to worry about, I assure you. You see, Clint… Can I call you Clint? I mean, let’s stop playing pretend, okay?” He waited for the man to nod before going on. “The organisation I’m part of, well, we’ve got a lot of interest in what’s happening here and abroad, and sometimes, things don’t always go our way… I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Don’t I know it too well!” He faked a laugh, but it went unnoticed by the duo.

“And when it’s like that, we have to put it back on the right track. Isn’t that right, Sophia?”

“Yes, right.” She smiled at her father, then looked at Clint: “I hope you don’t mind me lying a bit? I mean, we both kind of did.”

“I’m sure you’re telling me this just to make some small talk… What’s the deal?”

“He’s a smart one, right? The deal allows you some stability, financially and legally. It means a good pay and lawyers, politicians, all the big people by your side. We help each other, that’s our motto. You do some jobs for them and they keep you out of trouble. I’m not gonna lie, there’s one downside of this, you’ll probably have to move out of New York, our direct concurrent HQ are here.”

Clint pretended to be thinking for a few minutes, sipping in his glass of wine, watching discreetly a few people coming in the restaurant, asking for a table, there was only left and it was next to theirs as Fury had planned. The archer put his drink back on the table, elbows put on the surface, he then joined his hands to support his head, eying cautiously Georges Lauren.

“What’s the organisation?”

“Hydra.”

“Hydra?”

It was the moment they had waited to intervene, Coulson appeared from the kitchen walking side by side with Casey, and at the table next to them, Chan, Robertson and Frank stood up, Clint grabbed Sophia’s hand when she made a move to run away. People around were pretending they didn’t watch the scene, but they were flagrantly doing so. The father-daughter duo were being escorted outside when Hill appeared to talk with the owner, Phil and Clint came with her.

**May 2 nd 1997, 08:15 PM – Jasper Sitwell’s house**

After the Lauren’s job, Hill and Sitwell had taken upon themselves to bring Barton into their group of co-workers/friends, the man in question was pretty sure that it only was a way to make sure he wouldn’t jump into that kind of situation anymore. That being said, it was Garrett during lunch who invited the archer to their poker night, Clint had been encouraged by Phil to agree, this is how he ended walking with Hill to their host house. Sarah welcomed him warmly, even though she didn’t know his or even that he was supposed to be there, but she still offered him a drink, he took a glass of wine, red just like her. Most people would believe that he was a beer or whiskey kind of guy, but truly, it was wine he found it hard to say _no_ to. They started playing, and surprisingly, it was Sarah who was the best player around the table, that was until Phil arrived, thanked the host for the glass of whiskey put next to his chips, and thus started the real game. Clint would later learn that Phil was the best at reading faces and thus, playing with him was a true challenge and the others had to work on their poker face, which was what make their game night so long and so hard.

“Damn it, Coulson ! What have I ever done to you?!”

There was a snort, Clint was sure it came from Hill, but – or maybe because of that – he didn’t say anything, while Coulson’s face stayed unchanged – well, a few months later, he would learn how to look for the marks of amusement in his blank face, but for now, the archer would have to deal with not knowing.

“Do you want the list now or in a more private setting?”

“Is this a way to ask me on a date, boss?”

“You’re not ready for that, Barton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a while after this time setting.


	8. Uncover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but I'm being uninspired lately on how to take the turning point for their relationship, I'll come around

**November 28 th 1999, 11:58 AM – New-York, Joe’s**

It was close to midday, people has started to crowd the little café where Clint had been hidden for the last hour, nursing a cup of coffee now cold, the man was hesitating on either order a new one or drink up that one and leave. The thing is: today was his day off, Barton had asked for it a while ago, knowing he wouldn’t be in any good mood to do any job, but that day was also a day when Clint couldn’t stay alone or he would dwell on the past and dark thoughts would follow him everywhere. That’s why the man spend November 28th in public space: a café, a library, an arcade; but not during rush hour. There were too many people and too many things could go wrong. He could go out for a stroll in the park, but it has been snowing nonstop for the last two days and Clint didn’t feel like getting sick for the sake of a good mix between a public space and loneliness. His thoughts were cut short by the noise of the chair in front of him being drew away, someone sat in front of the archer.

“I would say that coming to Joe’s around lunch time when you’re looking for calm and quietude isn’t exactly the best strategy.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m your handler, Barton.” Answered Coulson, face as blank as ever, even though there seemed to be some warm in his eyes. “I know everything I need to know about you… Like the fact that this is an annual day off and that you come to Joe’s when you’re down. Like the fact that you never talk about relatives and tensed when someone mentions theirs, that you’ve got a brother and that you two had no contact in many years…” He trailed off. “Come on, we’ll go back to your place and I’ll make you my mother pasta sauce. You’ll love it!”

Clint had no reason to decline the invitation, he didn’t mind spending time with Coulson, even if this meant silence and long hour sitting most of the time, and he was offered free food now. He drank up the cup of cold coffee, stood up and followed Phil to his own apartment, the other man owned the spare key since he was the archer’s handler. They walked without a word, barely acknowledging each other presence, and the silence lived until well after the men entered Clint’s apartment, Phil having cooked for a few minutes already. He was in the kitchen while the archer was busying himself in the living room where his handler had exiled him, refusing to show the recipe to the younger man. It wasn’t really his mom’s recipe, she was an awful cook, but there was no better way to cure melancholy than making the other feel like part of the family and how else that with a homemade meal said to be a family recipe?

“You…” started Clint, not pretending to read anymore, but still unsure if the way his voice trembled was any sign. “You never told me why or even how you became an agent. Isn’t that supposed to be some sort of bonding moment between a handler and his agent?”

“It can be. There can be a lot of other bonding moments too.”

“You’re not gonna tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How and why you become an agent”

“You didn’t ask…”

“I didn’t…. You think you’re funny, huh?”

They kept silent for a while, Phil finishing the plates, Clint opening a bottle of wine he kept for some rare occasion. Needless to say, those rare occasion had become even rarer since he started to work for SHIELD.

“I’ve always loved heroes, the idea of someone not only judging what’s right, wrong or in between in regard of morality and not only in regard of laws, but acting on it too. Not enough people see how laws are sometime worse than the criminal acts they condemn or how enough money can keep the laws at bay…”

“I think people do”

“Yes, some do see it, but they don’t act on it. They just let our society gets more wrong everyday. Then, somehow, someone stand up. That’s what heroes do.”

“In other word, you wanted to be a hero.”

“No, not at all. I wanted to be the shadow who makes the magic happens.”

They finished eating in silence, except for a few words here and there, commenting on the weather, the jobs, the food. Clint didn’t seem ready to open up about why today was an annual awful day, but then he put down his fork, drinking up his wine, before tiredly rubbing his eyes. He would have to talk about it someday anyway, even if he didn’t want to. That was part of his past and would still affect his present and future.

“Me and Barney, we… Hum… We didn’t see eye to eye when it came to morality.” He stated, not really knowing where to go from there. “He thinks morality is something we created, there is no such things in nature so why bothering ourselves with acting right or wrong. I used to think that this what something made us human beings, but I’m not so sure anymore… I often wonder if I’m not the worst of us, even worse than my father…”

“I don’t think that you are. You’re not going around killing people without any reasons, are you?”

“Yeah, but what if I’m wrong? Anyway, that’s not only about right and wrong…. I just… feel like this life is far too lonely and that there isn’t much to make up for everything we lose…”

“Are you lonely?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not really.” Phil was looking at Clint with a strange look. “Maybe you’re lonely because you push people away with your sarcasm and cynic because you feel it’s what you deserve. Don’t give me that look! I’ve seen you with people and they treat you as a friend, as someone they trust. You don’t trust anyone.”

“I trust you!”

“Do you? It’s not a trap, Clint. You’ve had a life that make it hard trusting other, I didn’t and most people around us neither. I get it, you don’t know how to trust. It’ll take time and all along, I’ll be there, trusting you and showing you that you can trust me too. And I’m not only talking about the job.”

“You’re always talking about the job, I’m sure you don’t know how not to be an agent.”

“Katherine would tell you the opposite. Speaking of which, I should leave or I’ll be late.”

**December 6 th 1999, 11:05 PM – Hospital of New York**

Phil had received the phone call an hour ago, he was tired, Katherine too. She had spent the day with her father and had been sleeping for a few hours when Coulson woke her up, at first wanting to drop her off at her mother’s, but then he remembered that Helen was on a date and his usual baby-sitter wasn’t responding. Phil had no choice but to bring her with him to the hospital.

Strangely, the first thought he had was how surprising it was that Barton had put him as person to contact in case of emergency, the second one was wondering if it was Barton’s way to show that he trusted the other man. Maybe Phil could have think longer of a way to keep Katherine away from Clint, but he hadn’t been lying when he told Barton that he trusted him. A few people knew of his daughter, less had meet her. Hawkeye should considered himself lucky.

The emergency wasn’t that much of an emergency considering the dangerous lifestyle of the man, he had fell from a window from the first story of his building into a dustbin. The story was so ridiculous that Phil found himself smiling all the way to the hospital. He got two cups of coffee before heading toward the room where Clint was. The man looked awful: a black eye, some cuts on the arms and face, and a split lip. The younger man did a double take when he saw the little girl, unable to hide the shock, Coulson counted it as win.

“Who the hell is that?” asked Clint, even though his mind quickly remind him of that time he saw Phil eating pizza with a woman and a little girl.

“Clint, this is Katherine, my daughter. Katherine, this is Clint, a friend.”

“Hi!”

“Hi, kiddo!”

Clint grabbed his belonging and followed Phil to his car, sitting in the passenger sit because Katherine was too young to sit there as she informed him kindly when he dared asking. On the road, the archer explained that he heard the old woman from the first floor screaming, she was trying to stop a thief. It was a man that Clint had saw around quite frequently but didn’t think much of. When he tried to intervened, the man pushed him through the open window, it was the old woman who called 911.

Later, they were back at Phil’s, Clint sat on the sofa while the older man was bidding goodnight to Katherine. The little girl and the archer had got along and his daughter took her sweet time before agreeing to go to bed.

“I hope you don’t mind the sofa?”

“It’s fine, I’m used to sleeping on sofa… So… A daughter, hum? Didn’t take you as the father type.”

“Funny… I was before joining SHIELD. I’m not joking. Her mother wasn’t happy with that.”

“It’s the woman I saw with you at the restaurant? Is this why you prefer supervising?”

“Not really, don’t make a difference for her. I’m still leaving for long period at a time, I still can get killed. She doesn’t know what I do exactly.”

“That must suck!”

“It does… Back in 1996, when I was looking for you, I had to cut off all contact with her, the only exception was for my birthday. Fury asked Kate if she wanted to draw something and he put it in my office. That’s the longer we stay without contact.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s in the past. But to be honest, I’d appreciate it if you keep her existence discreet.”

“No problem, Boss!”

“We’re not at work Clint. It’s Phil.”


End file.
